


beachside love

by cosmicpoet



Series: momoharu week 2018 [5]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Birthday, Breakfast in Bed, Eating Disorder (implied), F/M, Kisses, Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: Harukawa wants to wake Momota with breakfast in bed on his birthday.





	beachside love

The gentle lull of the beachside waves is so common for Momota and Harukawa that it rarely wakes them anymore. After a year of living in a modest apartment by the sea, the tranquillity of every noise around them is simply the sweetness in the background of their love. In fact, with the heat of the early summer, and the fact that the area in which they live is so peaceful, they’re happy to leave the windows open at night; this morning, sunshine billows through, gentle wind caressing the curtains like falling petals, and the beauty of such a simple dawn crowns their sleeping faces in all the softness of being intertwined.

Used to rousing early, Harukawa yawns and rubs the sleep from her eyes, like stardust dreams tumbling into a new day; she checks the calendar, already aware of what it will say. April 12th – the most perfect day – purely because it means long, warm days spent in bed, beachside walks with night-time cocktails, and an overwhelming expanse of the purest form of love. Momota’s birthday is such a beautiful time, she thinks.

The bedside clock – a little analogue thing, hand-painted duck egg blue – tells her that it’s just before eight in the morning. Normally, Momota wakes a little after her, and the temptation to go back to sleep does enamour her mind for a moment. Reasoning that she can have five more minutes by his side before getting up, she instinctively curls into him; it warms her heart that, in his sleep, he puts his arm around her. Even when he’s taken by dreams, his instinct to protect her always remains strong.

For a moment, she almost falls back into her own peaceful sleep, the warmth of Momota’s bare chest begging her to stay, simply _stay –_ to fix herself forever in the simplicity of this beautiful happiness. But the world still turns, and she wants to be taken up by the gentle, ever-moving winds, and thus life must not pass her by, but take her by the hand and lead her further into her life. Finally, after everything, she is at peace with where she is. Because where she is – at any given time – is always close by to the love of her life.

And right now, that means making him breakfast in bed. She knows exactly what he likes, and although she isn’t the best cook, she’s miles better than he is – hopefully, she thinks, he will enjoy being woken up with a plate of fresh bacon and eggs.

Humming as she works, she plates up Momota’s breakfast and tiptoes back into the room, the heat of the sun through the windows warming the floor and leaking light onto Momota’s face. As the curtains billow, she sees the sunbeams radiate, almost as if they’re coming directly from him, and she smiles softly at the sight of him, still sleeping. It’s almost too beautiful for her to even dream of waking him up, but it is his birthday, and she wants to spend every second of the day – every beautiful inch of her life – surrounded by him.

“Wake up darling,” she whispers, setting the tray down next to the bed and getting under the covers again.

“Mm,” he says, his voice soft, a thick hint of sleepiness in it, “what time is it?”

“Twenty past eight.”

“Ah,” he sighs, and opens his eyes, “you look beautiful this morning.”

She blushes.

“Shut up,” she whispers, kissing him gently on the cheek, “you’ve not even got your glasses on.”

“Don’t need ‘em to know that I’m dating the most beautiful girl in the world.”

He reaches for his glasses on his bedside table and puts them onto his face. Harukawa falls a little more in love in these early morning moments, when the softness of the breeze brushes the curtains against the edge of their bed; when she can see him – all of him – in every little perfect imperfection. His glasses, his un-brushed hair; she wonders how much effort the universe must have put into making him.

“I made you breakfast,” she says, “happy birthday.”

“Aww, thanks Harumaki!”

As she passes him the tray, he sits up and reaches out his arm, beckoning her to curl into him again. Her head rests on his shoulder as he eats.

Softly, he says, “This is delicious. Have you eaten today, though?”

She shakes her head. Everything that is unsaid between them makes her feel like she needs to train again, to run along the beach until her head spins, but…Momota made her promise that she would never get like that again.

“Here, Harumaki,” he puts a piece of bacon on the fork and lovingly feeds it to her, “for me?”

Gently, cautiously, as if there may be poison in it, she takes a bite. It’s still hard for her to adapt to this…normal life, but with Momota’s help, she’s getting there. And she wants to thank him, but all she can manage is a crudely made breakfast and a birthday card.

“This is everything,” he says, between bites of food, “that I’ve ever wanted.”

“Seriously, Momota? The bacon isn’t _that_ good.”

“No,” he laughs, “I mean _this._ You. Living by the beach with the woman I love. You’re just…god, Harumaki…you’re my everything.”

“You’re so sentimental,” she laughs, noticing that he’s finished his breakfast now. As she reaches over him to put the tray on the bedside table, she finds herself lying on top of him, staring deep into his eyes.

“Cliché, huh?” Harukawa says, smiling at him.

“What, a beautiful girl on top of me on my birthday? I’m not complaining.”

Leaning down, she kisses him. He rolls over and puts his arms around her, kissing her gently, all over her face and down her collarbone. She laughs, purely because it’s so…messy…so _Momota,_ and she loves the way that he makes her feel at home. His lips on her neck, on her shoulder – they feel welcoming. So gentle, so beautiful.

“Happy birthday, darling,” she whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Please leave a comment if you did!


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